My review of Henry Green’s wartime novel, Caught, is up at the Rumpus today here. First published in 1942, Green describes the novel as follows:

“This book is about the Auxiliary Fire Service which saved London in her night blitzes, and bears no relation, or resemblance, to the National Fire Service, which took over when raids on London had ended.

The characters, while founded on the reality of that time, are not drawn from life. They are all imaginary men and women. In this book only 1940 in London is real. It is the effect of that time that I have written into the fiction of Caught.”

We are so used to reading novels and movies that are written and created long after the events they describe and portray; it is worthwhile to read a novel like Caught that is the product of the uncertain time of the event itself.

A collaboration I did with photographer Alex Norelli is up here at 7x7la. How it worked is that Alex sent me a photograph, then I wrote a short text in response, then he took another photograph, then I wrote another short text, and so forth for seven “turns” each in total. I am really happy with how this turned out. It was interesting because I did want to have some kind of framework in mind but to maintain spontaneity as well, and that’s how I ended up with the loose framework of thinking of each turn as a day. But I also didn’t want to get too formulaic about it and so that’s why I didn’t stick with a consistent phrasing of the sentence where I mentioned which day it was. I hope you enjoy it!

Ok, here is another update, sorry to be so sporadic – I have a bunch of new poems in this British small press anthology of American poets (basically a collection of four chapbooks) which you can find more information about here: https://thehighwindowpress.com/the-press/#Four%20American%20Poets – this includes the longest poem I’ve ever written, a ten pager in four sections. Check it out!

I am not the best at updating this website BUT here are a few new things. My poem, “February,” was published by Open Letters Monthly. You can read it here. The first line of the poem is actually hand-written in sharpie on a coffeehouse wall in Los Angeles as well alongside years of other graffiti by other people. I might have written part of the poem there too but I don’t remember! For the sake of a better story, let’s say I did!

A poem from my book, “Words from a Pound of Flesh,” was re-published by The Quotidian Bee here. This is a poem that was written some years ago but that still has a lot of meaning to me and which I am tempted to over-explain but which I will leave to speak for itself.

Location-specifically:

There are a few copies of my book now at Malvern Books, in Austin, which is very nice. My book is print-on-demand, which means that instead of the publisher printing a “press run,” the book is printed when someone orders it. That means for the most part, it is available online through the usual suspects or at readings, to which I bring author copies. For whatever reason, I didn’t make getting it into actual live bookstores a big priority, I suppose because there were other things to think about when publishing a first book, but I did eventually get a few copies to Skylight Books in LA and now to Malvern and it is a very nice feeling to know that people can walk into a bookstore and see it and buy it if they wish!

I will be doing a reading in Denver, at the Leon Art Gallery, on Mar. 5th at 5:00.

Finally, My poem, “How Not To Need Resurrection,” is being included in the Pittsburgh Poetry Houses project, which you can find out more about here. The poetry house will be hosted by Randyland, a really cool looking public art site. Mine will be up for two weeks; I’m not exactly sure when yet, but I will let you know when I find out! I am very excited because I love public art and I wish I could visit, but the poem will also be available through the project’s website and hopefully I’ll get a picture of it in situ!

Reviewing this book weeks before Halloween seems particularly appropriate; All Hallow’s Eve is, on some level, still about grappling with the spectre of the bones under our skin, while also celebrating the excitement of going out into the dark. While the poems in Michalle Gould‘s Resurrection Party are often about death, this book is very much alive—a rare book that justifies its exclamation points. It is dark, yet filled with whimsy and weirdness. The dancing skeletons on the cover are only the beginning.

While I’ve read many beautiful poems, I’ve read fewer that are beautifully crafted and funny. But many of Gould’s poems are just that, ranging from witty to comical. This humour rarely shouts at us; rather, it winks, as in “Untitled”, which begins, “This was supposed to be a landscape without a person in it, / but there you are